Page:Poems of Baudelaire Sturm.djvu/139

80 Then I will dream of blue horizons deep; Of gardens where the marble fountains weep; Of kisses, and of ever-singing birds— A sinless Idyll built of innocent words.

And Trouble, knocking at my window-pane And at my closet door, shall knock in vain; I will not heed him with his stealthy tread, Nor from my reverie uplift my head;

For I will plunge deep in the pleasure still Of summoning the spring-time with my will, Drawing the sun out of my heart, and there With burning thoughts making a summer air.